


meltdown: rm (i was too young)

by i_was_human



Series: after the end [7]
Category: Lobotomy Corporation (Video Game), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lobotomy Corporation Fusion, Angst, Angst and Feels, Blood and Gore, Heavy Angst, Kim Namjoon | RM-centric, Past Character Death, Poor Kim Namjoon | RM, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 09:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21318079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_was_human/pseuds/i_was_human
Summary: RM is knowing his name once had meaning, a good, beautiful meaning, but knowing that he no longer knows so he tries to come up with things that are good and not bad and yet so few things in this world are good that he can't fucking think of anything.
Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM & Everyone
Series: after the end [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534679
Kudos: 15





	meltdown: rm (i was too young)

RM is danger.

RM is the De Capo Al Fine in every song, from the start to the end.

RM is making sure nobody makes it through their entire song.

RM is harsh words and harsher glares and pretending to be okay when he really wants to scream or cry or fucking punch something but he _can't _because they cut out those emotions and all he feels is _rage_.

RM is knowing his name once had meaning, a good, beautiful meaning, but knowing that he _no longer knows_ so he tries to come up with things that are good and not bad and yet so few things in this world _are _good that he can't fucking think of anything.

He inhales.

Exhales.

There's no place for cowardice in his team, he thinks. Not when his team controls everything.

Hope may control in name, but he, he truly pulls the strings.

He inhales.

The coppery sent of blood fills his nose.

He exhales.

Dust swirls around his feet.

It's a back corner of the corporation, he knows. It always is.

And this back corner has boxes. Boxes with pictures.

This back corner has things that idols would wear and pictures of idols and other equally sickening things that RM _hates_-

So he doesn't come to this corner very often.

"RM."

His gaze snaps to Jin's, instinctively checking the elder's azure locks. The lighter the better, as Jin once joked.

A new Jin.

"This is reckless, Jin," RM bites, managing to resist the urge to tack on a "hyung", whatever it means. "We could get scrapped for this."

Jin smiles, and he gestures to a curved crimson blade by his side. "Is this not worth it?" he challenges.

RM stares at the blade for a moment.

"What's its name?" he asks, lifting the weapon in one hand.

"Mimicry."

* * *

Wielding Mimicry comes easy.

Almost too easy.

As RM cuts the air with the crimson blade, he finds he's strangely at ease with it. As though he's been using it all his life.

(Even though that's not true)

He inhales, exhales, lets his eyes slide shut.

_"This... this isn't real."_

Being alone gives him time to think.

_"I... where are they?"_

Being alone is a good thing.

_"I can't be alone."_

Being alone is good.

_"I don't want to be alone..."_

Being alone is...

_"Please... please don't leave me alone..."_

...

* * *

He can't do this anymore.

Fighting in the backstreets was _fine _when he had something to return to, but now that every single time he goes out or saves someone he sees Jungkook or Taehyung or Jimin or Yoongi or _Hoseok_-

He can't.

He's polishing Mimicry when he hears the alarm go off, and he momentarily debates whether or not it's honestly worth it.

But then Seokjin's face flashes into his mind - the last one he has left - and he knows that, if there's _any _way he can save one of his brothers, he has to take it. 

So he pulls on the fur-lined jacket and lifts his sword, summoning the images of his brothers in his mind. 

What he fought for.

It's an absolute shit-show outside, and he doesn't honestly know what he expected. People run to and fro, and there's blood spilling over the floor and on the wall and he can't see Seokjin _anywhere_ which isn't _right_-

A bullet whizzes past his ear and he curses, raising Mimicry in front of him like a shield as he runs towards the battle. 

His hair really is too long.

The attacking forces pour into the back alley, made wide for ease of disposal. There are easily thousands, and he inwardly shudders.

Strange to think that he was once a pacifist.

"It's Monster!" somebody shouts, and he takes that as invitation.

He doesn't need to think when he fights. Twist and slash and kick and jump and repeat-

Blood stains his hands.

He rams his blade into a man's stomach, yanks it out, turns, and skewers three more.

God, there's so much.

He catches sight of the leader - a dark-haired woman - and he sprints through the crowd, ducking and weaving as best he can.

It's not perfect. 

A bullet catches one arm, and he lets a hiss of pain slip through his teeth, but he keeps running. Push through.

One to the thigh.

And _fuck_, running _hurts_ like his limb's been burned off and broken and mauled but he keeps running.

For Seokjin.

He leaps for the woman, blade raised above his head-

His last mistake.

She skewers him just as he has, and he hits the ground.

He can't breathe.

And maybe it's on a street in Seoul or some dingy back alley somewhere, but he _doesn't know_ and it hurts _so fucking much_ and his arm feels like it's on fire and there's something warm and wet under him that's probably his own blood, and it probably severed his spine because he can't feel his legs anymore-

And the woman laughs.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, trying to remember how to breathe, but a face finally falls into view.

Seokjin.

"Namjoon," the eldest gasps, tears streaming down his face. "Namjoon, Joonie, I'm so sorry..."

"H-Hey, hyung," he breathes, breath shaking as it comes out. "H-How'd I do?"

"Don't talk!" Seokjin exclaims, panic evident. "Don't... you'll die..."

"I-I'm gonna die anyways," Namjoon mumbles, and Seokjin shakes his head, cupping Namjoon's cheeks in his hands. "I c-can't feel my legs, hyung. I-I'm gonna die."

"I can fix this," Seokjin whispers. "I can-"

"S-Shoot me."

Seokjin's eyes widen as he stares at the younger, finally seeing the extent of the damage. Justitia protrudes from his chest, he's lying in a pool of his own blood, and the only part of his body he seems to be able to move is his right arm.

"P-Please, hyung," Namjoon rasps. "I-It hurts..."

Seokjin slowly pulls his gun out of its holster, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Joonie..."

"I l-love you, hyung..." Namjoon mumbles. "Y-You know that, r-right?"

"Of course I do," Seokjin breathes. "Always."

Namjoon raises a shaking hand to the barrel of the gun and moves it between his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. "P-Please make it fast."

Seokjin screws his eyes shut as he pulls the trigger.

In some way, Namjoon's grateful.

* * *

"Joon!"

RM wants to see blood.

Namjoon wants to see his brothers.

And these two are shockingly compatible ideals. 

They work well together, Namjoon muses. He's lingering at the edge of RM's consciousness, and is aware enough to know he's dead - and he is _very _dead, he knows that - but not quite powerful enough to stem the flow of rage that seems to be all that RM can feel.

His own rage at _his_ memories being used to wield _his _weapon to hurt _his _brothers doesn't help either.

But at least they're fighting, right? Fighting the "bad guys".

If only the world was that black and white.

It feels like floating in a bottomless ocean, what's actually happening spreading across the sky. It's peaceful.

And Namjoon's somewhat content to stay there.

Because he's _tired_. He doesn't know what this is or why he's here, but he's so damn _tired_.

"Joon!"

Namjoon stands, the sand rising to meet his feet. He knows that voice.

"Hyung..."

"Joonie-hyung!"

"Namjoon-hyung!"

"Joonie!"

And he's standing on dry land.

* * *

As soon as Namjoon crumples, Yoongi's there.

"Hyung," Namjoon sobs, and Yoongi _knows_ it's a sob, even if he can't cry, because that's just who Namjoon is. "I-I'm sorry..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Yoongi murmurs, and Namjoon mumbles something unintelligible in response. "No fighting it."

"I'm sorry," Taehyung whispers, and Namjoon blinks at him, confusion evident. 

"Me too," Hoseok adds.

"A-And me too!" Jungkook exclaims, launching himself at their leader.

Namjoon's eyes widen as the other five pile onto him, Yoongi opting to run his hands through the younger's hair. 

"You're okay," the elder breathes. "I missed you."

Namjoon buries his face in the elder's shirt, lithe frame shaking in non-existent sobs. "I missed you too. So, so much..."

He dissolves into sobs again, and Yoongi tenderly strokes his hair, letting the younger melt into the touch he's missed for so long. "It's okay, Joon-ah. I'm here."

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me on twit:  
@i_was_human_


End file.
